by Timothy Zahn
“Congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Vanto,” the admiral finished.
And the insignia plaque in the admiral’s extended hand was indeed that of a lieutenant commander.
“Congratulations,” Thrawn repeated from beside him.
“Thank you, sir,” Eli managed. “And thank you, ma’am.”
There was more: a few short speeches from the others on the board, more congratulations, stirring visions of the glorious future awaiting them all.
Eli didn’t really hear any of it.
To his mild surprise, Tarkin lingered after the navy officers had filed out again. “Congratulations, Commodore,” the grand moff said, nodding to Thrawn. “And to you, Lieutenant Commander,” he added to Eli.
“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Thrawn said.
“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Eli echoed.
“A fine ceremony,” Tarkin continued. “I’m glad I stopped by. Governor Arihnda Pryce sends her regards and her own congratulations.”
“I wondered if she might,” Thrawn said. There was, Eli noted, a hint of something in his voice. Some kind of private joke between him and Tarkin? “She is well, I trust?”
“Quite well,” Tarkin said. “Eagerly preparing to take on her new post.”
“I am pleased that things have worked out for her.”
“As am I.” Tarkin reached forward and touched the new commodore’s insignia plaque on Thrawn’s chest. “Consider this a bonus.”
“Thank you, Your Excellency,” Thrawn said. “Please thank the governor when you next see her.”
“I will,” Tarkin said. “Now I believe you have enemies of the Empire to deal with. Good hunting to you.”
With a final nod to Thrawn, he turned and left.
“Once again, congratulations, Lieutenant Commander Vanto,” Thrawn said. “I trust the wait has been worth it.”
“It has indeed, sir,” Eli said. Distantly, he wondered what Lieutenant Gimm would say when he first saw the former ensign’s new rank.
Probably nothing. Not much he could say to a superior officer.
But his expression would definitely be worth seeing.
“And now, we’d best get to our new ship,” Thrawn continued, turning toward the door. “There will be a great deal to learn.”
Eli frowned. “Our new ship?”
Thrawn turned, a half-amused, half-knowing smile on his face. “I see you were not paying attention at the end. I thought not. We’re being transferred, Commander. I am now the captain of the ISD Chimaera.”
Eli caught his breath. Thrawn had been given an Imperial Star Destroyer? “No, I—congratulations, sir.”
“Thank you, Commander,” Thrawn said, the amusement growing. “Shall we go?”
“Yes, sir.”
They headed for the door. “What did Grand Moff Tarkin mean by your promotion being a bonus?” Eli asked.
“I think it was merely a joke.”
“Ah,” Eli said. A Star Destroyer was one of the best possible assignments, almost the highest pinnacle of success the Imperial Navy could offer. It would indeed be an honor and a privilege to serve aboard one. And as a lieutenant commander, yet.
Before they left the Thunder Wasp, he promised himself, he would definitely make a point of looking up Lieutenant Gimm.
Seldom can one attain victory in warfare without allies. Some allies provide direct assistance, the two forces battling side by side. Other allies provide logistical support, whether weapons and combat equipment or simply food and other life needs. Sometimes the most effective use of an ally is as a threat, his very presence creating a distraction or forcing the common enemy to deploy resources away from the main battlefront.
But standing by an ally doesn’t necessarily mean one will always agree with that ally. Or with his goals or methods.
—
The Chimaera’s alarm had been muted by the time Eli reached the bridge. Another day, he thought tiredly as he stepped out of the turbolift car, another crisis. Life under Commodore Thrawn’s leadership was exciting enough, but there were times when the pursuit and capture of pirates and smugglers began to feel routine and even a bit boring.
Only today wasn’t just another day. Nor was it just another crisis.
His first warning that something serious was going on was the group clustered around Thrawn beside the aft bridge hologram pod. Not only was Senior Comm Officer Lomar there, but also First Officer Karyn Faro and Stormtrooper Commander Ayer.
Thrawn caught Eli’s eye and beckoned him over. “Lieutenant Commander Vanto,” he said gravely. “Senior Lieutenant Lomar has just received a distress call from the troop transport Sempre. The captain reports he is under attack.”
Eli shot a look at the tactical display. If the positions and vectors were accurate, they were over two hours away from the scene. “I assume no one else is closer, sir?”
“No one with sufficient firepower.” Thrawn gestured to Lomar. “Senior Lieutenant?”
“The Sempre has identified its attackers as the frigate Castilus and two squadrons of V-19 starfighters,” Lomar said. “There may be more—the attackers have jammers going, and the Sempre’s transmissions are spotty. I’ve got my people scrubbing and sifting the recordings now, so if there’s anything else in there, we’ll find it.” He threw a hooded look toward Thrawn. “His last transmission said he’d been breached and was being boarded.”
“The attacking ships were reported stolen eight weeks ago,” Thrawn added.
Eli frowned. There had been something in the commodore’s voice…“By Nightswan?”
“Possibly,” Thrawn said. “The scheme was quite inventive, which could indicate his hand in the planning. But whether or not he was behind the theft, I do not believe he is involved with this attack. Overly violent attacks are not his usual style.”
“Styles can change, Commodore,” Faro said, her voice brisk and with a hint of impatience. “And with all due respect, I don’t see how the ships’ starting point matters right now as much as the fact that they’re here and they’re shooting at our people.”
Eli winced. Commander Faro had come with the Chimaera, having served as first officer under the previous captain. She was never overtly insubordinate, but she was never far from that line, either. Calling Thrawn’s comments into question wasn’t something a first officer was supposed to do, especially not in public.
But Thrawn merely inclined his head to her. “We are already moving at the Chimaera’s greatest speed to assist, Commander,” he said. “And knowing their origin may enable us to anticipate their goals and future actions.”
“It’s a troop carrier, sir,” Faro said, the edge of impatience still there. “I think their goal is probably to kill some Imperial troops.”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. “Perhaps not.” He gestured to Ayer. “There seems to be something of a mystery about this particular transport.”
“Yes, sir,” Ayer said, looking uncomfortably at Eli. “As I told the commodore, Commander Vanto, the Sempre isn’t carrying troops.”
“It’s empty?”
“No, sir.”
Eli flashed a look at each of the others. “Excuse me?”
“I can’t say anything more, sir. To any of you,” Ayer added, looking even more uncomfortably at Thrawn.
“Major Ayer has received a direct communication from Coruscant, but is not at liberty to share the contents with us,” Thrawn said. “Our orders are to deliver him and his stormtroopers to the Sempre while we deal with the attacking ships.”
“Understood, sir,” Eli said, an unpleasant feeling settling in between his shoulder blades. Secret communications that were outside the normal chain of command always made him nervous. “What if they need help aboard?”
“We won’t, sir,” Ayer assured him.
“What if you do?” Eli repeated.
“We won’t, sir,” Ayer repeated. The apology was gone from his voice, his new tone making it clear that the subject was closed. “I can’t say any more
.”
“I’m sure we will be informed at the appropriate time,” Thrawn said. “Until then, our task is to reach the Sempre before it is completely overwhelmed. Commander Faro, you will run a complete check on the weapons and weapons crews. We are to be ready for combat the moment we reach the scene of the attack. Lieutenant Commander Vanto, contact engineering. If there is a way to increase the Chimaera’s speed, you will implement it.”
—
One hour and forty-nine minutes later, the Chimaera arrived.
To find that all their orders were now irrelevant.
The Sempre drifted dead in space. Its crew lay scattered across the ship, all dead. The troop compartments were empty.
The attacking ships, of course, were long gone.
“Odd,” Vanto said as he and Thrawn picked their way through one of the clusters of bodies. With the need for secrecy gone—whatever that secrecy had been about—Ayer had reluctantly permitted the two of them to join his stormtroopers as they finished sweeping the ship. “Blaster burns on some of the bodies, but not all of them.”
“Yes, I noticed that,” Thrawn said. “Several of the latter also have injuries to their heads and torsos.”
“As if they were physically hit,” Vanto said. He pointed at the blood marks on a nearby section of bulkhead. “And then we have those. Looks like most of the beating victims had their heads or bodies slammed against the walls and bulkheads.”
“Note, too, that some of the marks are higher than the victims are tall,” Thrawn said. “That mark in particular. Do you see a pattern in it?”
Vanto stepped to the wall and looked up at the indicated mark. His forehead wrinkles with thought. His fingers hover over the mark as if he is mentally tracing it. “More blood than most of them. Those smears look like they could be finger marks. Somebody writing in the blood?”
“Perhaps,” Thrawn said. The mark was blurred and seemed incomplete, as if the writer had been interrupted. Or perhaps it wasn’t writing at all. Certainly it didn’t look like any letter or combination of letters he was familiar with. Though if the writer had been injured, that might account for the distortion.
But why would an injured person choose to write so high? And if it wasn’t a word or the beginning of a word, perhaps it was a symbol or a glyph.
He surveyed the crumpled bodies. As Vanto had noted, two had been killed by blasters, the rest beaten to death. None was tall enough to have easily made the mark.
Vanto had come to the same conclusion. “I’d say this was made by either one of the attackers or one of the passengers.”
“Perhaps an examination of the troop quarters will tell us which,” Thrawn said. “Come.”
A stormtrooper was standing guard at the hatchway leading to the troop quarters. “Sorry, sir,” the stormtrooper said. His filtered voice is stiff and imperious. “No one is allowed inside.”
“I am Commodore Thrawn,” Thrawn said. “I wish to enter.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I have my orders.”
“I am giving you new orders, stormtrooper,” Thrawn said. “The passengers are gone. The secrecy you were ordered to maintain concerning the Sempre is no longer an issue. Imperial officers and crew are dead, some of your own colleagues among them. Justice and retribution for the attack depend upon information. Some of that information lies behind you through that hatchway.”
“I’m sorry, sir, but I have my orders,” the stormtrooper said again. His voice holds no recognition of the situation’s urgency.
“I am your commander, stormtrooper,” Thrawn said. “You will step aside!”
Vanto twitches at the sudden volume and vehemence. The stormtrooper likewise reacts with surprise. He hastily steps away from the hatchway. “Thank you,” Thrawn said.
He and Vanto stepped inside. “You disapprove of my words and tone?”
“I don’t disapprove of either, sir,” Vanto said. “I was just startled. I don’t think I’ve ever heard you shout in anger before.”
“I was not angry,” Thrawn said. “Some people will not respond to reason. Others refuse to consider alternatives to their normal pattern of behavior. In such cases, an unexpected breaking of one’s own patterns can be an effective tool. What do you see?”
Vanto stepped to the center of the sleeping area. He turned his head slowly, his eyes lingering on the rows of three-tiered bunks. “Those aren’t standard-sized racks. They’re at least half a meter too long. And aren’t standard troop carrier racks four-tiered instead of three?”
“Yes,” Thrawn said. “These quarters are clearly designed for large passengers.”
“Doesn’t look temporary, either,” Vanto said. “The racks are permanently bonded to the walls, deck, and ceiling. So what kind of passengers was the Sempre designed to…” His words stop. His eyes focus on the connection rings set into the walls beside two sets of racks. His fingers squeeze together with sudden tension. “They weren’t passengers,” he said quietly. “They were prisoners.”
“Not just prisoners,” Thrawn said. “Slaves.”
—
Faro was waiting when Thrawn and Eli returned to the bridge. “Report, Commander,” Thrawn ordered.
“I have the analysis of the attack, Commodore,” Faro said, pulling up a schematic on the sensor display. “Looks like the most damaging fire came from the V-19s—they took out the shield generators, hyperdrive, and sublights—with the frigate mostly serving as a distraction.”
“Not unexpected,” Thrawn said. “Established military doctrine—” He looked at Eli. “Nikhi.”
Mentally, Eli shook his head. All these years speaking Basic, and there were still occasional words that escaped him. “Notwithstanding,” he supplied.
Thrawn nodded his thanks. “Established doctrine notwithstanding, if a well-trained starfighter squadron can penetrate point defenses, it is often more effective in striking power than capital ships. Note that the deliberate destruction of the hyperdrive indicates that their goal was never to capture the ship for their own use.”
“They were here to free the slaves,” Eli murmured.
“Exactly,” Thrawn said. “Was there anything to indicate the attackers’ species of origin or training methods?”
“Ah, nothing we spotted, sir,” Faro said, frowning. “I’m not even sure how we’d go about determining that.”
“There are ways,” Thrawn said. “We will discuss them later.” He turned to Lomar. “Senior Lieutenant?”
“We’ve finished scrubbing the Sempre’s audio,” Lomar said. “There are half a dozen species that could have made the sounds we pulled up, but only Wookiees match up to the size you described for the slaves.”
“Good.” Thrawn pulled out his datapad. “In that case, this blood mark can be interpreted as an emblem instead of writing. Very well. Commander Vanto, to the computer.”
“Yes, sir.” Eli sat down at the nearest terminal. “Ready.”
“The slaves will have come from Kashyyyk,” Thrawn said, his eyes narrowed as he scrolled through pages on his datapad. “But there will have been an offworld processing center to test for health and other qualifications before they were sent on to their final destination. Using Kashyyyk and our current position as end points, search for that center’s likely location.”
“Unless they were in a hurry, there’s no reason they had to come direct,” Faro pointed out. “They could have been processed anywhere from here to Alderaan.”
“Haste is not so much an issue as efficiency, Commander,” Thrawn said. “If there has been a steady stream of such transports…” He paused, then continued scrolling. “At any rate, the Sempre was permanently altered to carry Wookiees or creatures of their same size. It seems reasonable that the processing center is equally permanent. Commander Vanto?”
“I’ve pulled up everything within a ninety-degree double cone, sir,” Eli reported. “There are a lot of systems in there.”
“It will be a military base,” Thrawn said. “Owned and operated solely b
y the Empire. It will be relatively isolated, closed to outside traffic, and with a higher level of imported material than the listed crew complement would suggest.”
“Why don’t you just look for shipments of Wookiee food?” Faro suggested.
“I don’t think there’s anything special about Wookiee food, ma’am,” Eli said as he continued keying in the parameters. “Even if there were, the shipments would be disguised as machinery or other items. Not much use having a secret slave center if you’re announcing to the galaxy that you’re feeding a lot of extra mouths.”
“Precisely,” Thrawn said. He was still gazing at his datapad, Eli noted, but the rapid-fire scrolling had ended. He must have found what he was looking for. “There will also most likely be another Imperial base nearby, less secretive but larger and close enough to provide a rapid response if necessary.”
“Yes, sir.” Eli keyed in the final parameters. “And that gives us…Lansend Twenty-Six. It’s an old customs clearing station the Separatists took over during the war and converted into a staging area. The Empire took it back but hasn’t done much with it.”
“Until now,” Faro murmured. “Do you think we should warn them that one of their transports got whacked, sir?”
“We will do more than that,” Thrawn said. “Signal the helm, Commander Vanto, to take us to Lansend Twenty-Six at all possible speed.”
“Yes, sir,” Eli said. He keyed the intercom and delivered the orders.
“Why would the attackers head there, sir?” Faro asked. “Wouldn’t they be more likely to bypass the station and take the Wookiees to some refugee planet?”
“You assume they already have all the Wookiees that they want,” Thrawn said.
“You mean you think they’re going to raid the station for more prisoners?” Faro asked, frowning.
“Consider, Commander,” Thrawn said.
Eli hid a smile. He knew this tone.
“Bringing the Sempre out of hyperspace at the precise point where the attackers were waiting would have been nearly impossible without assistance,” Thrawn continued. “That assistance would have had to come from either Lansend or the Sempre itself. Either way, the implication is that the attackers had an ally and saboteur aboard the station.”
